


Atonement

by linityne



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Did you or did you not kill someone? That is the question., F/M, Guilt, It'll get fluffy for only a moment, Liu Woods - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Religious Guilt, Religious Themes, Slow Burn, and then bam! back to angst, back to suffering, homicidal liu - Freeform, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linityne/pseuds/linityne
Summary: What makes a bad person? Is it the way they talk, how they act, or is it in the more minuscule of details? These questions concern you. You are convinced you are a bad person, the worst of the worst. Having to navigate the pettiness of redemption for a crime that is not your own, your bittersweet story begins.
Relationships: Homicidal Liu/You, Liu Woods | Homicidal Liu/Reader, homicidal liu x reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 0 I The Beginning

The rain beat down incessantly on the roof of your car, creating a symphony of pelting drops, the darkened night sky not offering any relief from your growing anxiety. In the distance, the faint sound of rumbling caught your attention, causing you to grasp your steering wheel in a death grip. Even with the threat of an oncoming storm, you were determined to leave town as soon as possible. Now you were left to wonder if it was really worth it. Thunderstorm versus your past sins finally catching you after years of running. It seemed more logical to choose the storm. 

With the rumbling fast approaching, you absentmindedly accelerated your speed, hoping to find some dingy township in the middle of all of these dirt roads and cornfields. At this point, you just wanted to rest your body and let go of all of the tensions from the day. God knows you've been clenching this wheel between 10 and 2 for the past seven hours. By now, your hands were seemingly plastered into that position. You swore that the second your body finally was able to lay down on some springy mattress in a rundown motel you would be out like a light. Exhaustion was starting to come over you, and swiftly at that, you need to find somewhere to rest soon otherwise you'd end up sleeping in your car on the side of a shady back-road in the middle of nowhere. 

How had you gotten into this conundrum, anyway? What had you done that warranted you to spontaneously pack up your entire life and leave everything you've ever done? Murder. You've been avoiding this for years now, trying to push it to the very back of your mind, covering it in cobwebs, trying to forget. Isn't it ironic how the one thing you so desperately wanted to be erased from your memory was always in the foreground of it? Funny how the mind works sometimes... And now instead of facing your problems, you were running from them. Guilt loomed over you for this entire time, even after that body was buried 6 feet under the ground, your peace of mind died with that poor soul.

The only question you wanted to be answered was simple: Why did you do it? How could you begin to repent of your wrongdoings if you couldn't even remember why? All you can remember about that night is nothing, absolutely blank. There's no recollection, no triggers, no anything. It made you ask yourself if you even did it, to which the answer to that would be an undeniable yes. You did it, you killed him, you took someone's life and toyed with it like some god. You were an awful person, weren't you? No, no, you didn't mean it, you didn't want to kill him, but you also can't remember why he had to die, you cannot be sure.

Yet you remember the aftermath as clear as day. Blood stuck in your hair, causing it to clump together. That metallic smell clung onto your clothing, coating your cardigan with a burgundy-like color. You had a metal kitchen knife clenched in your hand, your knuckles turning white. There was nothing that indicated that you hadn't done it. So you ran. You ran like your life depended on. Falling and stumbling, the forest floor was unrelenting as it threw branches and sticks on the ground that went undetected by your unpracticed feet until you fell, knees bruising and hands scrapped. You've always ran from your problems.

Pulling you out of your stupor, orange light filtered in through your car windows, some street lamps flickering as you passed. Finally, you made it to some other dreary and cheerless town with probably no more than a population of a few thousand. Kind of like the type of place where you could blink while driving past and you'd miss it. All you were hoping for was some cheap motel to crash at for the night.

And while you were passing through, you found just that: a run-down motel with questionable security. Pulling into the parking lot, you slipped your car keys in your coat pocket, starting a miniature jog towards the illuminated lobby as you tried to avoid the pounding rain. You pulled the door open, practically flinging it open as the wind whipped at its hinges. The receptionist's head whipped up from the front desk, receiving a rude awakening from their nap. Only two types of people check into motels at this hour of the night: people running from the law and people with really awful navigational skills. 

"Can I help you?" Her tone was groggy. She looked a bit dead, and not to mention uninterested. The palm of her hand was digging into the side of her face as she struggled to keep herself propped up and awake. 

Shuffling awkwardly towards the register, you futilely attempted to shake off some of the raindrops from your clothing as you fumbled to take out your wallet. 

Taking the hint, she began to ring you up without further question. "It's 39 bucks for the night, no breakfast, don't expect any wake-up calls." She snatched the money from your hands, putting it into the cash-box and sliding a random room key towards you. "You're on the first floor, right hallway, room 17. Got it?" 

Nodding, you immediately took off down the hallway, not wanting to stick around to hear any more of the receptionist's harsh words. It didn't take long before you reached your room, the number '17' plated in faux-gold paint that was beginning to chip on the edges. Unlocking your door with the key, you hesitantly turned the doorknob as you entered the blackened room. Your hand reached out to blindly feel around the wall, searching for a light switch. Suddenly the room went bright, shocking your vision as you squinted to the contrast of darkness to fluorescent lighting.

Once your eyes adjusted, you locked the door behind you before checking out where you'd be spending the night. It was anything but pleasant, the carpet was a sharp emerald green while the duvet covers were littered in patterns of mismatched flowers. The wallpaper was tinted yellow, and upon closer inspection the bedding was scratchy. Beggars can't be choosers, and you tried to remember this as you shut off the obnoxious and head-ache inducing room lighting in favor of the bed-side table lamp. Peeling off the pieces of clothing that had been a victim to the rainstorm's onslaught, you climbed onto the uncomfortable mattress and tried to ignore the scruffy feeling of the blankets gliding across your skin. As soon as you had lumbered under those covers, drowsiness had encompassed you. And as your muscles relaxed, and your head became clear, you gave into that drowsiness and escaped off to a dreamless sleep.

Surely, tomorrow would be a better day.


	2. Chapter 1 l Mild Annoyances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If someone is causing a ruckus next door to your motel room. . .  
> it might be best not to investigate.  
> Or maybe it might be good?  
> Time will Tell.

You melted away into nothing, only to be slammed back into reality with the sound of vigorous thuds against the neighboring wall, one right after the other in perfect sync. Having only woken up, you rubbed your eyes trying to make up for the dull pain that was growing in the back of your head. The sound of muffled voices reached your ears. You couldn’t comprehend the words being spoken as you begrudgingly shuffled out from under the uncomfortable bedcovers, it just sounded like a bunch of gibberish.

Pressing your ear against the wall next to your bed, you could make out one voice. It was subtle and easy on the ears, but there was a sharp panic in their tone. Whoever was on the other side definitely was not having a very swell night, however, that didn’t excuse them from interrupting someone else’s sleep, it was a public motel after all. You glanced down at the digital alarm clock: 04:23. . . A false bravado overcame you as you yawned. Determined to finally have a good night’s rest, you stomped over to your front door before flinging it open, practically slamming it into the wall.

The motel hallway was bleak, and your room was situated on the end of it, one of the rooms closest to the side door exit. Dimmed lights produced an eerie glow that made the atmosphere far tenser than it needed to be. Besides the clamor coming from your end of the corridor, it was completely still. However, that silence would soon be ruined.

Unrelenting as you banged on the neighboring room, number ‘18’, you caused a ruckus that rivaled even the cacophony from inside. All sound from inside immediately stopped, an awkward shuffling producing from the other side of the door. 

Hushed voices and a few quiet sniffs, a timid voice responded to your violent escapade. “D. . did I wake you?” 

“Yes, yes you did.” Venom dripped from your tone, coating the tip of your tongue like delicate lace. Your tiredness didn’t allow for much thought on your actions, instead putting all of your emotions on clear display, which at the moment was a fierce irritation. With crossed arms and a jarring glare, you waited patiently to hear an explanation.

“I apologize for disturbing your sleep...I’ll try to keep it down…” He trailed off hesitantly, choosing the prose of his words carefully. From the way he spoke, you could tell you had startled him. The sense of nervousness was apparent from the way he stumbled through his sentences.

Scoffing, you jabbed a finger towards the door. “You better.” 

Trudging back towards your own hotel room, you had never been more joyful to see such an uncomfortable bed greet you as you walked in. A silly smile was smeared on your face, feeling that same pleasant feeling of sleep overcome you. Giving in to that feeling, you drifted off for the second time that night.

………….It didn’t last long, unfortunately. Once again, you woke up to the same sounds as before. The banging got louder and louder before it would suddenly stop…...and then start up again. If you had already been peeved before, this drove you over the edge as you ripped the bedsheets off of your body and practically flew to the door of the neighboring room. Gaining back your false, sleep deprived-acquired courage, your footsteps echoed throughout your room as you lumbered back out into the motel’s hallway. The sun was beginning to peak out, shining it’s beginning rays through the windows at the end of the hall, further aggravating you once you were reminded of how much sleep you had lost. Grumbling and groaning, your fist made contact with the hollow wood door repeatedly until you heard the man on the other side grow quiet. 

“What do you want?”

You were shocked. That was not at all how you remembered this guy sounding. He was soft, timid, even. Not to mention, the last time you talked with him made it appear that he was alone. Either way, this new guy should have been able to hear the brutal conversation you had had earlier.

“You said you’d keep it down, so instead you got louder?” 

“Mind your own damn business.” His voice was gruff and unapologetic, a little bit raspy. It didn’t sit right with you. 

This was a stark contrast to your previous talk; the two of them were polar opposites, what was he doing with a guy like that, anyway? Sure, you had pegged the shy one for a doormat the first time you heard his voice, but this was far beyond your imagination. Well, you know what they say, opposites do attract.

“You’re interrupting my sleep. As far as I’m concerned this is my business. How about you just stay quiet while the rest of us out here can get some decent fucking sleep?” You weren’t normally like this, but with the situation at hand, you had thrown caution to the wind. Allowing all of your snarkiness to flow out of you like lava, you let this guy have a piece of your mind. How dare he disturb your rest? Did he think he was so high and mighty that he had the right to keep others awake all night—?

“Just go sleep, I won’t bother you again.” 

“Like hell you won’t.”

And for once, whoever was on the other side of your wall finally went through with what they said. Your eyes finally fluttered shut and stayed that way for longer than three hours. 

Eight full hours, in fact. For the first time in days, you finally felt refreshed, maybe even relaxed. Today you would hit the road again, and for once you were actually looking forward to your endless hours of driving. You had left your bags in the trunk of your car, expecting to check in to the motel, sleep, and then leave immediately afterward. 

By the time you were exiting the motel room, it was around one in the afternoon, sun shining high in the sky. As you were shutting the door behind you, you noticed that there was a small note taped onto the front of your door. It was written on the plain white stationary paper with the motel’s logo on the bottom of the page. Unfolding the note, you found an apology letter scribbled in blue ink.

Hey,  
I’m sorry about waking you up last night,   
that’s not normally how I go about first meeting someone…  
I hope that you were able to sleep peacefully, at least.   
Again, my apologies.  
\- Room 18

The handwriting looked. . . practiced, as if it had been written over and over again. Either way, you began to feel a bit of guilt for how you acted last night. The two of them could have been going through some type of trauma, who knows? Before you left, you decided it would be polite to write a letter back. You placed the miniature note in the pocket of your jacket while you began planning in your head what you would write. Walking towards the night table, you picked up the cheap, motel-issued pen and leaned over to write on the notepad.

Hi,  
I feel the need to apologize for how I acted towards   
you last night too. Tired or not, I shouldn’t have  
been so short.   
Don’t worry, I ended up having a peaceful  
sleep after all.  
Have a nice day :)  
\- Room 17

A smiley face? Really? You internally groaned at yourself for absent-mindedly doodling it. Regardless, you didn’t want to dwell any longer on it, hoping to put more distance between you and your hometown before the sunset (not to mention to also find sleeping accommodations before midnight.) With that in mind, you tacked it onto the neighboring room’s door and headed down the hallway towards reception. 

The receptionist was busy with her head in some magazine when you walked up to her, gently placing the room key on the wooden table. She didn’t spare you a glance as she swatted her hand at you, motioning for you to just hurry up and leave. You didn’t waste time catching that hint, scuffling through the sliding doors without a second thought.

Compared to last night, it was a beautiful day. Big, fluffy clouds covered the sky, patches of a bright blue shining between them. With such a pleasant atmosphere, you felt as though nothing could go wrong. Although, up until now, nothing had gone to plan, so what made you think it would listen to your hopeful notions now?

Jamming your keys into the ignition, you jerked your hand to the right, expecting to hear the sound of your engine starting and the lights in the front seat to flash. Instead, you were greeted with the sound of sputtering machinery. With a sigh, you went to go check under the hood, popping it open swiftly as smoke wafted from the inside. Well, that definitely wasn’t a good sign. You didn’t know any of the mechanics in the area, you didn’t even know what town you were in. Not that it should have mattered, by this time you should have been on the highway.

Barging back into the front lobby, you decided it would be a good idea to ask the receptionist for information about a mechanic. Even though you were incredibly intimidated by her, she was your best bet at this point.

“Uhmm… excuse me?”

Groaning, she slammed her magazine down and glared at you with piercing eyes. “What do you want now?”

“My--- my car broke down, I just wanted to know if you knew of someone to call in the area..? Like a--like a technician of some kind?” You were unable to meet her gaze, shifting uncomfortably from her stare.

Rolling her eyes, she began fiddling with a drawer on the side of the desk, pulling out a bundle of business cards. “Check out Larry, he’s the guy to call around here,” She handed you a card with the name “Precision Auto” labeled in bold on the front, a phone number on the back.

“Thanks. . .” Pulling out your Blackberry, you input the number and it began ringing. Explaining your situation to the guy on the line, whom you assumed was ‘Larry’, he said that he would be out in an hour or so to check it out. You were just grateful you wouldn’t have to call to get your car towed.

The technician came sooner than expected, acting as a harbinger of bad news. “Yup, just as expected. You have a cracked engine block. Gonna need to call in for a new engine for ya’, which might take a week or so, how long are ya planning on staying?”

“I was actually supposed to leave today...” You trailed off. A week was out of the question, but you barely had enough cash on you to afford a new engine, let alone a new vehicle. Your next stop would be an ATM for sure.

“Yikes, well, I don’t have many other options for ya, kid. If you want me to order ya a new engine I’ll get right on that for ya.”

Larry was surprisingly pleasant, unconditionally nice. Was this the small town charm everyone had been talking about?

“Could you? I would really appreciate that.”

“Of course, I’ll get right on that. I’ll call ya a tow to get your car to the shop, does it no need to sit in a parking lot, y’know?”

Nodding, you began discussing what you owed him for coming out. After handling the payment, it was out of your hands until the final bill would come through. You shuddered at the thought of paying such a large amount to fix your car.

Strolling back into the motel, you awkwardly explained your situation to the receptionist, whom you learned was actually named Mary-Anne. You had taken your bags out of your car with you, dropping them casually on the floor as you received the same room key back from her. She had given you a pamphlet about the town, which was just called Cedar, with a map of the area on the back of it, which is what piqued your interest. 

When you trekked back down the hall, you found another note stuck on your door. You were a little bit excited to possibly make a new friend on such a boring journey, but you suppressed those feelings as you placed the new letter in your pocket and began working on unpacking your bags. 

It might be nice to be forced to chill out for a week or two, maybe it would give you the reflection time you needed. Whatever ended up occupying your time, you were unaware of the trouble trailing close behind you, inching ever so closer every day. You would never escape your sins no matter how far away you drove. No matter what life threw at you, it would never cause you to forget, and it loomed over you every day. And as you sat down with no more pressing issues on your mind, you realized just how much it actually encompassed you. That pendant attached to the sleeve of your coat further signified your wrongdoings. You wanted to be free from your actions, you wanted to be free from yourself.  
But for now, you would disregard that in exchange for simply existing, pushing it back to the corners of your mind the best you could.  
No need to worry about the inevitable. . .  
Right?


	3. Chapter 2 l The Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are one of the greatest distractions, but they aren't good enough to allow for avoidance of damnation. . . Do you even remember that night?

The miniature notes grew and grew until you were checking every few hours for a new one to respond with your own. They became friendlier, less formal; it was just talking about your days, what you had been doing in the town, things like that. You still didn’t know who you were corresponding with, or what their name was, continuing referring to themselves as “Room 18”. Unsure of exactly who was corresponding with you, was thought-provoking and mysterious, but in a good way. You brushed off the thought, focusing on instead answering these letters which you had come to embrace as a welcomed diversion.

It gave you a distraction from the feeling of dread that had been creeping up your spine ever since you realized you’d be stuck in this dingy town far longer than you had anticipated. That feeling settled into the crevices in your mind, rattling around and disturbing rational thought. The same visage came to you over and over again, getting louder, less avoidable. Bad person, bad person, bad person. As those words caused typhoons in your head, you clenched your fists until they turned white; feeling the backing of the pendant on your left sleeve pushing through your flesh, acting as another nail on your coffin. Which was a coffin that should have been buried a long time ago...

And then the next note would come, and those thoughts would run away, lifting from your head like a rainstorm. That cheap pen would glide in fluid motions as the words just poured out of you. It had been too long since you had a proper conversation with anyone. When was the last time you had actually been in contact with someone?

Right. It was a few months ago, after the funeral of your friend. That had been an unpleasant time, one you would have preferred to leave behind in your hometown.

You remembered bits and pieces, her name had been Holly, you knew her since you were a toddler. Growing up in a small town meant you knew everyone, plus the two of you shared a majority of your classes growing up. By the end of high school, the two of you had grown close. A bit too close…. 

Actually, now that you were thinking it over, Holly was there the night of the incident. 

“What did you do?” She looked at you with such disgust, as if you were merely an ant on the ground waiting to get crushed by the looming giant. Malice leaked out from the corners of her mouth, dripping down past her lips and down her chin, just like the red liquid staining her arms up to her elbows.

Your eyes darted all around you, taking in the scene. A sticky substance coated your hands, a throbbing pain coming from the back of your skull. Reaching up to touch your head, you flinched back as it sent ricochets of stinging pain along your temple. Confusion was spreading across your features. You don’t remember coming here.

“You killed him.”   
“How could you do that?”  
“What kind of monster kills someone!?”

Her sentences were starting to loop together, tone frantic, one coming after another as the pain grew and grew in your head until you couldn’t see straight. Everything started becoming blurred, slurred, and everything in between. “W-what…?”

She shushed you, kneeling down next to your crumpled form and reaching a shaky hand out to caress the side of your face. Her hand was cold, leaving behind a red print in its absence.”Where would you be without me? How would you fix this without me?”

“I. . .” Your world started becoming blurrier and more distorted, your mind-warping your vision. Were you swaying or was the world swaying? 

As Holly gently passed the stained knife to your hand, you felt a sharp pressure on your neck, her fingers digging into a strategic spot. “You did this. You’re a murderer.” The world became darker, and darker, and darker until you slumped back down in the puddle of blood pooling beneath you. Whether it was your own or the body’s laying a few feet away from you was unclear.

Before you drifted off into nothingness, you heard those sickly words flowing out of Holly’s mouth, “. . bad person, bad person, bad person. . .”

And then you passed out. The next time you woke up, Holly was gone, almost leaving you to believe it had been a hallucination. That is what you would have believed if she hadn’t brought it up again, and again, and again, anagainandagainandagainandagain----- she claimed to be some sort of good omen that would help you become a better person, claiming to be able to redeem you.

You wondered if her death was vital in that redemption. Was the only way to become righteous through vindication of sacrificing your own life? It was her final lesson to you, and now you were looking to find your own answer to that vindication. . .without her. How would you be able to figure this out on your own? Death was the simple option, the easiest, you refused to believe that was the solution. After all, at the end of the line, you weren’t sure what would greet you. Heaven, Hell, both of those sounded too grandiose, and if they existed you already knew where you would be going. 

Holly’s words echoed throughout your head, your subconscious grasping onto those simple sentences even as they began crumbling down into nothing. That was the only thing you wanted to remember. You wanted to remember her, at least. 

Pulling you out of your daydream, the backing of the pendant was piercing your skin, drawing a few droplets of blood, dripping onto your cardigan. Your head was still trying to keep up, faintly registering the knock at the door. Another note had come.

Jumping up from your seated position on the edge of your bed, you wasted no time in twisting the golden door handle and peering around for that familiar slip of paper. Turning your head towards the neighboring room, you caught a small glimpse of a striped scarf disappearing right before the door clicked shut. It was black and white, more of a linen-cotton material. Not to mention inconveniently long, which is what the owner of said scarf realized as it snagged with the closing door. A loud huff followed that, the hinges squeaking loudly before the lingering half of the fabric was yanked back to its wearer.

It took you a hot minute to process what happened before it finally hit you: That was the “Room 18” guy. Even if you didn’t see any part of him, you saw something better: a scarf. Why is this such a telling addition, might you ask? Well, who wears scarves inside? Interesting people, that’s who. With that you, you took off to add the newest note into your growing pile of notaries.

Hey!  
It’s just me out here, unfortunately…  
Kind of been stuck here for the past couple of weeks.  
There really isn’t a lot to do here, ya know?   
Not exactly the most exciting place to be stranded, that’s for sure.   
So, how long are you planning on staying?   
I’ll probably be stuck here for a while longer, I’m just. . .  
Waiting for the right moment, I guess.   
Besides that, aren’t the sticky notes here absurdly large?  
I mean, for letters they do well, but for their original purpose?  
Just doesn’t do well for me haha.  
I’m pretty sure sticky notes aren’t supposed to have   
this much surface area.  
Oh, I guess I’m rambling again,  
Is the most interesting thing I can talk about really  
The philosophy behind sticky note sizes?  
I guess that’s what being stuck in a small, boring town does to you,  
Sincerely,  
-Room 18

These types of conversations made your day. It was nice to not think about big things for a while, instead focusing on something simple, like criticizing the sizes of sticky notes. A silent laugh erupted from your chest. Sure, it was a bit of an eccentric topic, but that’s where the interesting part came into play. You found it. . . charming, in a way.

Sitting down at the side table, pen in hand, the words flew from the ink, claiming it’s rightful spot on the page. When responding to “Room 18’s” little notes, you were never at a loss for words, your answers coming comfortably. It didn’t feel rushed, or forced, it was natural, which made it easier to exchange these slips of paper around the clock throughout the day. 

Hi :)  
I was only supposed to stay for the night, but  
My car ended up needing a new engine. And  
Of course, it’s a small town in the middle of nowhere  
It’ll take a week or two to finally get one.  
We’re both stuck here.  
Honestly, I didn’t really notice the sticky notes,  
Haven’t been stuck here that long to the point  
Where I’m analyzing the proper sizes of. . .  
Free motel stationery?  
Give me a few more days, then I’ll make the same  
conclusion that you’ve already come to ^^.  
Don’t feel bad about rambling,  
Being stuck in this town, it’s like a breath of fresh air to hear  
About something other than local news.  
“Ramble” as much as you want, I won’t mind.   
Although, it might be time to invest in some larger  
Pieces of paper. You know,  
The kind that aren’t cheap sticky notes,  
Just so you can ramble without worrying about  
How much “surface area” you’re taking up.  
Yours truly,  
-Room 17  
P.S. I like your scarf.

Actually, these interactions confused you as much as they amused you. Usually, you dreaded interaction, especially after having little to none of it for the past couple of months, it always left you feeling drained and unenergized. Somehow, this stranger had managed to capture your interest, to the point where you felt excited to hear that knock on your door. Who knows why this was, maybe after being alone for so long you were ready to actually connect with someone. 

Whatever was the reason, for the first time in a long time you felt this blossoming feeling in your chest, like the blooms of apple blossom trees at the peak of spring. Fragrant and extravagant, it was the feeling of new beginnings, friendships, growth. However, as the spring would fade and begin transitioning into summer, those blooms would die off, leaving the tree bare of any color. 

Positive that this strange relationship would die as quickly as it was brought on, you had no problem with being far less distant than you normally would be. What reason was there to hold back if both of you would be completely gone in a week or two? You could let yourself be free for a few moments, waiting as your ever-impending fate snuck up on you.

Didn’t you deserve to have some joy before the end came?


End file.
